


nine times that peter tried to come out (and one time he realised he essentially did)

by transzoemurphy



Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: :(, Catholic Guilt, Coming Out, Homophobia, Hurt/No Comfort, One Shot, Panic Attack, Religion based homophobia, Religious Guilt, after sobbing after finishing bare again, homophobic parents, i wrote this while listening to 7 by catfish and the bottlemen on repeat, nadia is peter’s emotional support classmate, the titles of each section are song lyrics, this isnt good but w/e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 15:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transzoemurphy/pseuds/transzoemurphy
Summary: this is basically just a re-write of the scene where Peter tries to come out to his mom





	nine times that peter tried to come out (and one time he realised he essentially did)

**Author's Note:**

> hh i changed some of the wording around bcus real ppl don’t often speak in rhymes, but. otherwise i mostly just messed around w expressing peter’s emotions. enjoy uwu

 

**1\. the phone call**

Peter’s heart was racing, slamming into his ribcage, causing pain not unlike what he’d once attributed to a heart attack (and he’d been condescendingly reassured by the ER staff that he was fine, just anxious).

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

He began to hope his mom didn’t pick up the phone after all.

 _Ri—_ “Hello?”

Goddamnit. He took a breath. _Peter, you can do this_. “Mother? I need to talk to you.”

“Peter, honey, I was just about to call you!”

He ignored her declaration. “There’s something that you, that you need to know.”

“You’ve been gone a week, honey. I miss you already!”

She wasn’t listening to him. God. Goddamnit. _Why_ did he always end up in these situations? _Goddamnit, Claire, just listen_.

“I’m just gonna spit it out.”

His mom asked him about rehearsals. He ignored this. “You probably guessed it, um, years ago. But, still, it's kinda — it’s really hard to say…”

“Peter, we are just so excited about the play! I can’t _wait_ to see you!”

Peter blinked. She still wasn’t listening.

 

**2\. words i thought i’d never speak**

He decided to try to drop a hint as best he could that this was important. “Look, mom, it’s something that I’ve spent so long not saying…”

“I've talked to your father and he swore he'd be there,” his mom promised.

“Sometimes it's on the tip of my tongue, but, I never… I only say it aloud when I’m alone and I’m praying, I—” he rambled.

“Well, I’d like to tape it, Peter, but honestly, I’m not going to be one of those parents.”

Peter sighed. “Silence seemed like the only way to deal with how I felt.”

“Peter, perhaps now isn't the best time….”

“Now I understand its costs. I’ve searched for answers on my own—”

“She’s so proud of you, Peter! I’m taking Nana to lunch—” It was Tuesday. She saw Nana on Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays. She wasn’t taking Nana to lunch, she just wanted to get out of this conversation.

“But when I try to say anything about how I feel, I find that I’m completely lost—”

His mom took a deep breath and he cut her off. “Mom, just, please — don’t say anything else? Just… listen.”

“I… don’t even know where to start… It’s like all the words are jumbled up, but, um... Look, mom, I love you. And I wanted to tell you that I…”

 

**3\. vying for attention**

His mom cut in again. “Berkley took their wait lists! When they called, I almost died. Would you really go to Berkley? I didn't know that you'd applied!”

 

**4\. i sit here locked inside my head**

“Mom...Would you please just listen to me?” Peter asked, frustrated.

“Where did Notre Dame go? I didn't know that you withdrew. People will be disappointed, have you really thought this through?” _That’s not the only thing ‘people’_ (you) _will be disappointed about._

 

**5\. stay for as long as we have time**

“Mom, this is important! Mom, you need to listen!” His voice cracked but he kept talking in earnest, trying to build up his confidence. “Please don't shut me out here. Mom, you need to see me.”

“Oh, Peter, please I'm so busy here. Let me call you later, dear.”

 

**6\. i’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife**

“God, this is so hard to say! I'm so afraid you'll turn away...Mom, I’m–” The word was on the tip of his goddamn tongue.

“Peter, please! I need a break. Whatever it is will have to wait. I'm going to hang up now. I really need to hang up now!”

She didn’t want to face the truth. She didn’t want to know for certain her son was gay. She didn’t want to know. He should just give up.

He cut off his own internal monologue.

 

**7\. the silence gets us nowhere**

“Mom, don’t — don’t hang up, this took so much courage! I'm dying here, I’m all alone! I know _you_ know that _you know_ what I'm saying! Mom, please, just let me tell you… Mom, I’m–”

Unsurprisingly, she interrupted him again.

 

**8\. i’m tired of being what you want me to be**

“Peter, please, I can't solve all your problems!”

 _That’s not what I_ — “Mother, you know _nothing_ of them! And I'm not expecting you to find solutions!” His chest heaved with the weight of all he was trying to say. “Just to be my mom and my friend...See me… Be there for me, please, mom, I’m—”

“I assure that I am in no state of mind to discuss anything right now!”

He didn’t want to “discuss” anything, he just wanted to tell her the truth of who he was that’d he’d been sitting on since age 12. “I’ve been waiting to tell you this since I was 12…”

 

**9\. i may end up failing too**

“...Peter? I have to go now.”

“You don't want to hear it. You don't want to see me, can't bear to see me.” The words he had been thinking spilled out of his mouth. God, she was so ashamed of him. She didn’t even want to know.

“Peter, you tend to dramatize…”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. He was a theatre kid _and_ he was gay. There’s a reason for that. “Well, there's a reason for that, mother. Open your eyes!”

“Peter, please I have to go now.” She didn’t have to go. Nana wasn’t there. “I really need to go right now. I'll call you!”

“When, mom, when are you going to call?” he begged, choking on his words.

“Soon, Peter. This week— this weekend!”

“We can work this out together,” he offered, an olive branch, a plea. He’d spent two hours talking himself up to this phone call.

“Maybe by the end of the week you can work whatever this is out.”

“Mother, this is _always_ on my mind—” A pain struck through his chest and he collapsed onto his bed, hanging onto the side like it was a life preserver in the Arctic ocean.

“I have so much on my mind!”

“Please! Don't hang up…” Peter exclaimed.

“I have to go,” she said, and she sounded resigned. Because she knew. She knew and she was disappointed and disgusted. Just like anyone else would be. Maybe Jason was right.

“Please…” he begged, even as he heard her put down the phone on her side of the line. “See me…"

He collapsed into himself, the phone falling out of his hand. He covered his mouth with his hand to avoid making any noise as he soundlessly sobbed behind his bed.

 

**1\. there’s always time for second guesses**

She knew. She knew, and she was upset. By not telling her, he’d told her. And now he had to pay for the repercussions of his impulsive decision to come out.

All because he’d seen — hallucinated? — the Virgin Mary in the backyard at a rave.

His breath was coming in short gulps and for a moment he wondered if maybe his assumption that this was anxiety was misguided and he should actually be rushing to the ER right now.

No. No. He wasn’t having some kind of heart attack or cancer or pneumothorax. He was just panicking. He needed to breathe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Who could he talk to? Jason was the only person he could talk to, but he couldn’t talk to Jason. He wasn’t going to talk to Father. Everyone at this school was out. Except maybe Nadia? Probably not Nadia.

…But maybe Nadia.

He took a deep breath and picked up the phone from where he’d dropped it on the ground. His hands shook, but he managed to type in her number.

“Hey, Nadia? It’s… this is Peter.”

**Author's Note:**

> the canon is too fuccin sad :’))) uhhh follow my tumblr @trans-zoe-murphy uwu!!
> 
> this fic is dedicated to the person who was audibly crying throughout most of act 2. i hear u. and i love u. whoever u are…… it be like that huh. i hope ur ok.


End file.
